Unwanted
by Teprac S
Summary: Curry finds himself at a bank robbery.


UNWANTED By Jennye Jackman - January 1995

A small boy, about twelve years old, with a broom in hand carefully swept dirt out from behind the oak and wrought iron bank tellers' cage. He herded the small pile of dirt around the corner to join the one he'd rounded up earlier. A stiff push of the broom sent the carefully gathered dust swirling around the toes of a pair of brown boots. He looked up into the startling blue eyes of one Jedidiah 'Kid' Curry. The tall man with curly blond hair smiled and stepped back, so the boy could sweep where he had been standing. Curry looked up as a well-dressed gentleman, having just finished his transactions, approached him.

"Hi there, Mr. Levi," the boy addressed the well dressed, robust gentleman.

"John," Mr. Levi acknowledged the boy with a nod, although his attention was centered on Curry. Almost as an afterthought he addressed the boy directly. "John, do you have plans for the weekend?"

"No, Sir."

"Good, Sam needs help cleaning up the house before my dinner party. Can you come?"

"Sure, Mr. Levi, when do you want me?"

"Friday, after school. I'll arrange for Sam to pick you up there. You can spend the weekend at the ranch, and after church, I'll buy you that new school shirt that you've been wanting. Deal?"

"Yes sir!" John agreed excitedly as he returned to sweeping the room with enthusiasim.

Levi watched the boy for a moment, and then returned his attention to Curry. "Mr. Jones, here is your pay. I included a bonus for a job well done." he said, handing Curry a half-dozen twenty dollar gold pieces.

Curry smiled as he placed the coins into the inside pocket of his tan vest. "It was good doing business with you," he said as he shook Mr. Levi's hand.

"If I need you again, how shall I get in touch with you?" the rancher asked.

"I'll keep in touch with a good friend of mine, Sheriff Lom Trevors in Porterville, on a regular basis and he'll see to it that I get the message."

They turned to leave the bank and were blocked by four armed, masked gunmen as they entered the bank. "None o'ya move!" one of the robbers shouted.

Curry edged back from the door. He took quick stock of those inside the bank: the two tellers, the bank manager, three women with children in tow, two ranch hands, Mr. Levi, John, four bank robbers and himself. Of the outlaws' weapons, there were a total of four long knives, six pistols, and a Sharps rifle that were visible. About a quarter that many weapons were scattered amongst the bank's customers. There would also be an inevitable shotgun hidden behind the bank cage._ Not very good odds, not good at all,_ he thought, as he raised his hands slowly.

The robbers quickly disarmed the bank patrons, took all their valuables before hearding them into a back corner of the bank. Two of the thieves left with the bank manager to deal with the now closed safe since one of the tellers had managed to close the door and spin the tumblers just after the robbers' entrance. Curry smiled, knowing the growing frustration of the robbers at having their easy get in and get out so quickly foiled.

They watched as the bank manager tried several times to manipulate the tumblers, but he kept missing the numbers, because of his shaking hands. Finally, the manager managed to hit the numbers and the heavy door swung open revealing its contents. The bandits quickly emptied safe's contents into several saddle bags.

The Sharps wielder clubbed the bank manager with the butt of the rifle. The man went down without a protest. Out of nowhere came a broom brandishing youngster. It was John, Curry realized belatedly.

"Don't you hurt Mr. Tibbedoux!" the boy cried. He swung the broom handle with all his might and connected solidly on the man's thigh. The Sharps man cursed as he swung the butt of his rifle around, clipping John on the shoulder as he tried to duck out of the way.

The weapon was raised again. The boy held his ground with tears running down his cheeks, staring defiantly into the eyes of the Sharps man. The man's rage was a tangible thing. Curry shoved the boy out from under the second blow, only feel its impact on his right arm, just a hand span above his elbow. Below the impact point, his arm went instantly numb as the pain raced through his arm.

Clenching his teeth he slowly, straightened up. Cradling his injured arm he glared at the Sharps man. Curry's eyes burned coldly. His expression was one of barely controlled fury.

The bandit leader grabbed John by the arm and propelled him out of the bank. Sharps' dark eyes twinkled dangerously as he spoke to Curry, "Make one move to follow us and the kid gets it."

The Sharps wielder backed out of the door. Keeping his weapon trained on Curry. He disappeared around the corner. A minute later, the sounds of galloping horses could be heard receding down the street. Curry slowly counted to ten and started for the door.

Only to find his way was blocked by a wide-eyed young woman. She placed a small hand on his good arm. "Are you hurt badly?"

"No ma'am. I'm fine."

"That was very brave of you. Could you help Mr. Tibbedoux?"

Curry looked out the door in the direction the robbers had taken. Torn, Curry turned away from the door. The bank manager lay on the floor and was beginning to stir. The two ranch hands that had been in the bank apparently faded out the back door when the opportunity presented itself. He helped the injured man into a chair where one of the ladies fussed over the goose egg-sized lump on the back of the manager's head.

"You'll live," Curry said, bitter about the unnecessary delay. Turning to exit the bank, he bumped into one of the ladies with his bad arm. He bit his tongue and swore through his teeth.

"Oh sir! I'm terribly sorry! Please, let me look after your injury."

Curry took a steadying breath and said, "There isn't time, ma'am. I need to get after the boy."

"This won't take but a moment," she said leading him to a chair.

She tried to strike up a conversation as she tore a strip from the hem of her petticoat, but Curry's mind was elsewhere. Why wasn't there a posse forming? If he wasn't going to get any help, he better have a plan of his own on how to get John back safely from the bank robbers.

"There you go. I don't think it's broken, but you should be careful with it for a while," the hazel-eyed lady said, gently tying the ends of the cloth. True to her word, the examination and wrapping took only a couple of minutes.

"Thank you," Curry said, tipping his hat as he stood. Then he noted that Mr. Tibbedoux was once again in charge. Worse, he was proceeding with normal banking operations as if nothing had happened. No one inside seemed interested in the fate of the boy or the money.

"What the hell is going on here?" Curry demanded. "Aren't you going to send a posse after them?" The bank manager gave him a disdainful look, shook his head slightly and opened a plain, beat-up brown valise.

Curry quickly cornered the man. "Don't you want you money returned? What of the boy?"

"Sir, the bank is not interested in the return of a couple hundred dollars and a dozen bundles of newsprint. As far as the fate of that misbegotten waif, that is none of my concern."

Recognizing that he was not going to get anywhere with the bank manager, Curry stormed out of the bank and headed for the stables. Angry with the town folks' reactions to the kidnaping of the boy, he paced, mumbling under his breath. No one seemed to care at all. Even his previous employer, Mr. Levi had disappeared shortly after the robbery and was no where to be found.

He waited impatiently as the aging stableman saddled his horse, being unable accomplish the task himself. Even with added the support of the bandages, his arm was still tender and uncooperative.

When the cinch was tight, Curry jerked the reins from the rail and led the horse out of the stall. As he headed out the stable doors, Curry saw a red-faced Mr. Levi hurrying towards him.

"Mr. Jones!" he puffed from unaccustomed exertion. He paused leaning one hand on the door, trying to catch his breath in order to speak further. "Mr. Jones, you can't leave now. I have another job for you!" he announced finally.

"Not interested." Curry stated flatly, stepping up into the saddle.

Mr. Levi grabbed a rein in sheer desperation. "I'll pay you, in advance, five times what I gave you earlier." Mr. Levi looked at Curry's impassive face and then added, "including the bonus."

"Not interested, I already have a job to do," Curry maintained, jerking the rein out of Mr. Levi's hand. The horse pranced at the sudden pull.

"Mr. Jones, I want you to go after the boy," Mr. Levi explained hastily as Curry's horse moved out into the street.

Curry turned to face Mr. Levi. "Are you sure you don't want me to go after the money?"

"Hang it all man, money can be replaced! The boy can't."

"He's an orphan," Curry replied coldly testing the man's convictions.

"He's my son," Mr. Levi corrected quickly. "Or will be on Friday. That was when I was going to make the adoption announcement. Please, Mr. Jones, rescue my boy. I'll pay absolutely anything you ask."

Curry carefully studied the desperation in Mr. Levi's reddish, sweating face. He had worked with the man long enough to be able to read him pretty well. The concern he had for the boy was genuine.

"Mr. Levi you can't pay for my services."

Mr. Levi's face and knuckles went white as angry desperation boiled over. Curry continued hastily. "The job I had in mind to do was going after the boy." After a moment, he said, "My reasons are purely personal."

"You'll go after him then?" Mr. Levi asked, caught off stride by Curry's words.

"Yes."

----------

"If you ever pull that stunt again, you'll never see your parents again," Sawyer scolded John as he carried the squirming boy back into the depths of the mine shaft. He stopped and hollered. "Cougar!"

"I am here," Cougar said, emerging from the shadows of the mine shaft to stand beside his leader.

Sawyer jumped. He set the boy down, keeping a fist full of the boy's shirt. "Gosh darn it, Cougar . . . wish you'd learn to make more noise," Sawyer exclaimed, turning to face the half-breed. "Keep an eye on the boy. Me and Crazy Bob will be back shortly."

Cougar nodded once and took hold of the boy's arm, staying well clear of the boy's badly bruised shoulder. Sawyer exited the tunnel, joining Bob who had just finished cleaning his Sharps rifle. Cougar quietly watched them walk toward where the horses were penned and out of sight, and then knelt beside John. "Sawyer's okay as long as you don't cross him. Crazy Bob's the one to watch out for," Cougar warned the boy quietly. "Understand?"

The boy nodded, his eyes wide with fear. "Stick with me, do what you're told, and I'll keep you safe. Now let's get you cleaned up. Then you can help me skin the rabbits for dinner."

John wiped angrily at the tears that half dried on his face as he was led deeper into the lamp-lit shaft.

----------

The slow, easy gait of Curry's borrowed horse was steadily wearing on his need to stay awake, and to keep moving no matter what. He had been riding steady for a full day and half the night. It was important that he meet up with his partner, Hannibal Heyes, and soon. Occasionally, Curry jolted into full wakefulness, hearing soft voices in the darkness. The long hours were taking their toll, because he wasn't completely sure if the voices were real or not.

The warmth of the horse radiated through his numb legs, helping to combat the growing chill of the night air. The fingers of his left hand were cramped from where he had them gripped tight in the horse's mane. They continued to plod along through the moonlit valley grove.

An unseen branch hung up in the rigging that held his injured right arm, nearly toppling him from the horse's back. Curry pulled away from the entanglement, crying out as he instinctively reached for the mane with his right hand to catch his balance, once again stirring his arm into a throbbing wakefulness.

The horse stopped as he struggled to regain his seat. A moment later, he heard the sound of hooves on the hard packed-ground in the distance. Looking around, Curry realized the dapple gray mare had stopped at the edge of a meadow, just within the shadow of the trees. She blended in beautifully.

With his left hand, he reached for the gun that had always rested on his right hip. It was gone. Slowly, the memories stirred. He had lost it during the bank robbery. They had taken it from him. He snarled; it had been his favorite. Nothing fancy, just a good trustworthy weapon.

His mare nickered a greeting to the approaching horse and rider. The rider made a swift detour into the trees. His cautious moves were all too familiar, but Curry decided he would wait, just to be sure.

After several minutes, there was still no movement to be seen. The rider had gone to ground. Curry waited patiently for a few minutes more, warming his cold, stiff fingers under his knee. He straightened slightly at the sound of the hammer of a pistol being drawn back. "Click."

He didn't move, not because it was the wisest thing to do, but because he was so sore and tired he couldn't, even if he had wanted to. A black dressed figure emerged from a clump of darkness to his left. "It's about time . . .," he said, carefully turning his head to see who was coming. "Heyes," he finished as he confirmed his suspicions.

"Kid, what happened to you?" his partner asked, worried. Heyes carefully resettled the hammer on his Colt and holstered it. "You were supposed to be at Tablerock, around dinnertime yesterday."

Curry sighed heavily. "I know," his voice was shaky with fatigue. "Something came up."

It was then that Heyes noticed that his partner was sitting bareback on someone-else's horse with his right arm in a sling made of leather strips. "Okay, kick your leg over and I'll catch you."

Curry did as his long-time friend and partner asked. Heyes was ready, but Curry didn't stop when his feet hit the hard ground.

----------

Heyes poked at the small fire absently. He looked over the flames at Curry, who now lay bundled in his sleeping gear. Curry had mumbled something about a bank robbery in Rock Springs, but there were no details. Heyes picked up a forked chunk of deer antler and worked several fist-sized hot stones out of the fire. Picking them up in his gloved hands, he proceeded to roll them into the edges of Curry's covers for extra warmth. Then he set about gathering more wood for the remainder of the night.

Heyes returned to the camp with an armload of wood to find Curry shifting restlessly. He mumbled incoherently and moaned when he moved his injured arm. The dark haired man tossed several chunks of wood onto the fire and sat beside his partner. His presence seemed to calm Curry's restless dream.

Heyes looked up from the bacon he was tending to see Curry's blue eyes watching him from the ground. "Morning," he said, pouring a cup of coffee, and then carried it to Curry's side. Setting the cup on a flat rock he helped Curry to sit up against the saddle and helped him to drink some of the coffee.

"You look horrible, Heyes."

Heyes smiled crookedly. "And you look better?"

"I always look better," Curry said softly.

He could see the lines of tension that framed Heyes's dark eyes when he smiled and knew that he hadn't slept all night. He also knew that there were lots of unasked questions awaiting answers. But they went unasked as Heyes left the hot coffee in his hand and returned to the bacon that had begun to smoke.

Sipping the coffee, Curry could feel its warmth spreading slowly through him. After a minute, he began his tale. "I was meeting Thomas Levi at the Rock Springs bank to pick up my pay. We had just finished our business when the bank robbers walked in.

"They disarmed everyone. They roughed up the bank manager and a few of the others." Heyes could see Curry's eyes becoming cold and dangerous as he remembered what had happened. "They clipped a boy about twelve with the butt of a Sharps rifle. I couldn't stand still for that. Shoved him aside and took the second blow myself.

"They were just plain mean. The kind of bank robbers that give the rest of us honest bank robbers a bad name," Curry said speaking as a professional.

"Why didn't you stay in Rock Springs?" Heyes asked, dividing bacon and hastily warmed beans onto two tin plates.

"Couldn't." Curry paused to sip the coffee. "They took the kid with them. I lost the trail when my horse went lame. Had to leave him at a farm half-days ride back. Got her," Curry indicated the gray horse with a slight nod of his head. "In trade with my saddle as security for her return. Headed this way, 'cause I knew that you would be looking for me. Together, we should be able to find that kid."

"The posse will get the kid from them. We've got an important meeting to get to."

"Heyes," Curry said softly, but his voice carried cleanly. "There is no posse. The kid's an orphan, like we were . . . unwanted."

----------

Heyes watched Curry moved his injured arm, carefully testing its limits. He drew his spare gun experimentally from the holster. It triggered a painful muscle spasm. Heyes knew that if it came to a fight, they would have to rely on more than a Curry's legendary quick draw.

"Guess the lady was right. It's not broken, just badly bruised," Curry whispered. "Did you find anything?"

Heyes settled in beside his partner. "They're holed up in that abandoned mine shaft. One on guard outside, and another one just inside. How many do you think that we're up against?"

Curry gingerly moved his arm as he thought out loud. "There were four in the bank, possibly two or three outside. I'd say if they were all there for the robbery, between six and ten.

Heyes watched his partner as he thought. He knew Curry wouldn't let this go without balancing the scales and rescuing the kid. Neither one of them had ever cottoned to hurting anyone, especially women and children.

His partner winced again as he moved his arm too quickly. Heyes had seen the nasty bruise that spread from the middle of Curry's upper arm to below his elbow. It rivaled the purple of Miss Lilly Langtree's petticoats. Not that he would ever admit that to Curry.

Heyes also knew that it would slow Curry up. That worried him. So did the Sharps. No one who packed a Sharps was to be taken lightly. Even a poor shot could do lots of damage if given the chance.

"You know, Kid, they don't really have to worry too much about us, bein' as we're outlaws too. The problem is getting close enough to tell them that," Heyes said, pushing his silver trimmed black hat back on his head.

Curry looked at his partner askance. "You're kidding. You're not thinking of riding in, easy as going on a Sunday picnic?"

Heyes smiled. Curry rolled his eyes and leaned back against the rocks.

----------

Sawyer looked at the duo dubiously, "So what was your partner doin' in the bank anyhow?"

Heyes didn't miss a beat as he said, "Checking out the safe. We were going to rob it that night. Quiet like, after it closed."

"That way no one would get hurt." Curry smiled, his icy gaze focused on Crazy Bob and his Sharps.

Curry nodded slightly as Bob edged back fingering his rifle nervously, at the unspoken promise of retribution to come. His attention wandered back to the conversation at hand, but he kept an eye on Bob none the less.

"-- and we'd have a head start on the posse. No one would have known until the bank opened in the morning that something had happened," Heyes finished.

He pushed his silver-trimmed black hat back from his brow and raised up from his seat to dismount. Several weapons were raised at the same time.

Heyes paused for a split second, and then slowly reseated himself. "Now look, fellas," he said easily. "You have several immediate problems and we need to get them straightened out before the law gets around to looking in this valley for you."

The others were grumbling and talking quietly in small groups. He watched them closely. He could see the balance of power slowly shifting from Sawyer to himself. Heyes leaned forward slightly in his saddle as he realized just how little it would take to oust Sawyer and take his position as their leader. Heyes's smile faded slightly as he heard Lom's voice in the back of his head saying, "Don't you do it. Don't even think about it."

"We don't have a problem, you do," Sawyer said, raising his gun.

Heyes' smile returned. This time, it actually touched the corners of his eyes. "I take it that you haven't counted the take?"

"Not yet," the man they had heard called Holbrook said from where he leaned against the mine shaft's entrance support.

Curry shifted the position of his sling to ease an ache that had developed. "I hear tell that the money's bad."

"Counterfeit?" one of Sawyer's other men asked loudly.

"Worse," Heyes offered calmly.

"Sawyer, I want to see my share of the take NOW!" One man shouted. His demand was followed by the angry agreement of the others.

"Cougar, send that worthless kid after the satchel," Sawyer said over his shoulder. Cougar nodded and disappeared into the mouth of the mine.

"So, smart man, what's wrong with our take?" Sawyer asked from behind his Colt.

"I dunno. Fool's gold. Maybe they marked the money somehow." Heyes shrugged. "Maybe it's stacks of cut up newspaper."

Curry cast an alarmed look at his partner. He hadn't told Heyes about the money not being there. He looked up as Cougar and the boy emerged from the mine. Curry studied the boy as he emerged from the mine shaft.

He appeared to be getting along all right. There were no outward signs of abuse. Curry noted that the boy kept well clear of Bob as he brought the satchel forward. He dropped it at Sawyer's feet and retreated to the shadows behind Cougar. Their eyes met as the boy studied them.

Curry smiled, and then turned his attention to the satchel where it had been dumped on the ground. Sawyer holstered his gun, knelt and opened the satchel. He dumped the contents out. Several coins rolled away from the pile of bundles. With his buck knife, Sawyer slit open a bundle, revealing the cut up news print inside. The slivers of paper floated away in the morning breeze.

Heyes leaned against the saddle horn and shook his head. "Yup. It's just what I figured."

Sawyer stood. "How'd you know?" he asked suspiciously.

"The bank job was too easy."

"Too easy!" Crazy Bob parroted.

"Yup. Too easy by half. Were you chased out of town?"

"No."

"Were any shots fired?"

"No."

"Why do you think that is?" Heyes asked.

"We had the boy."

"Wouldn't have mattered, he's an orphan. Who'd miss him dead or alive?"

The boy's face clouded up. He opened his mouth to protest and closed it again when Curry met his gaze and shook his head slightly. Sawyer looked over his shoulder at the boy. His eyes glistened, but he didn't cry. "That right, boy? You an orphan?" John nodded and angrily wiped at the quickly forming tears.

"We've got a take that splits out at about fifty dollars each and a useless hostage. What you going to do now, Sawyer?" Holdbrook demanded.

Sawyer drew his gun and pointed it at Holdbrook. He snarled, "If you ever question me again, I'll put you in the ground so quick the devil won't know you're coming to see him."

"So what are you going to do Sawyer?" Curry asked.

"Kill the kid and then hit the bank again. Tonight in fact."

"I wouldn't do that," Heyes said confidently.

"Why not, smart man?"

"First off, they obviously knew that you were coming the first time. And, second, I'd bet that they are sure that you will return since your take was so, generous. Third, you kill the boy, and the bounty on your heads will at least double. That would make you a valuable target for anyone in town who wants to try for the bounty. Dead or Alive."

The group shifted uneasily at the suggestion.

"Okay, what would you do?" Sawyer asked.

"Was the boy blind-folded?"

Sawyer nodded.

"Then what I'd do first is get the boy out of here. Leave him alive at some farm or outside of town." Heyes suggested.

"Yeah? Then what?"

"Then I'd disband the gang for a couple of months. Get honest work. When the fuss dies down, and they settle back into a relaxed routine, then you can start over.

"That's not an option," Sawyer protested.

"Why? It would give you a chance to find out just how the bank manager knew that you were coming. At least, far enough in advance that he could plan for you. In fact," Heyes said as a thought occurred to him, "I'd bet that the bank lost a considerable amount of money during the robbery, and if we can prove that the bank manager was embezzling funds, there'd probably even be a reward."

Heyes's brow raised slightly with another thought, I wonder if the insurance companies would pay to have certain banks robbed just to see if the bankers were honest. Just think of it, he told himself, making an honest living, the thrill of robbing banks without the ultimate risk of getting caught and getting paid to do it. The idea had some definate possibilities.

Holdbrook glowed at the thought of collecting the reward. The others were whispering amongst themselves while Sawyer remained unimpressed. "That's your idea? Not a very good one."

A faint mrrrrtt sputter sputter, mrrrrtt sputter sputter filled the space in the dialogue.

A deep angry voice, shouted "CUT!"

The sound grew closer and louder until the rickety plane was sighted. Suddenly, a shrill and long whistle made everyone look up trying to sight the source of the sound.

Above the excited chatter, someone shouted, "Incoming!"

People and horses scattered over the set as they tried to out think the falling object. "I thought they'd finished shooting that 'Five O'clock Charlie' episode on the MASH set yesterday! Why wasn't I informed of the changes?" shouted Director Gene Levitt.

"I'll find out, Sir!" a grip replied as he leapt into a golf cart and raced out of sight on his way to the neighboring set.

Pete Duel looked over at Ben Murphy and smiled. "Coffee?" he asked.

"Might as well, it's going to be a while before they get all that newsprint picked up."

Together, the duo rode over to the set's canteen to wait for word as to when the shooting would begin again.

Fini

A/N: My muse died a horrible death, therefore the shooting schedule of this episode was ended. Forgive me.


End file.
